What once was, Shall be again
by RossZ
Summary: All that mattered was surviving. His past, his name and who he was before he became a gladiator was irrelevant in the Fighting Pits of Meereen. That was until he decided to escape on a dragon with Daenerys Targaryen.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:Not beta'd. There will be some mistakes.**

* * *

 _282 A.C_

"Conducting the test now is useless."

"But what happened wasn't normal, he should have died," James Potter retorted, standing in the middle of a well-lit corridor, the fingers of his free hand grazing on the black stone walls that held various trophy shields, wands and most interestingly the portraits of his ancestors. They weren't regular portraits. If he was anyone else but himself, they would've seemed still and unmoving. They only came to life whenever he or his wife was around, the product of an ancient enchantment that drew a portrait of anyone in his family that had died and brought them to life in said portrait.

"What _did_ happen, dear?" Iolanthe Peverell, the third oldest painting in the castle question with a smile - her gaze unshifting from the reddish-pink bundle of flesh wrapped in blankets in James other arms.

"The maester was astounded by it himself," James answered, "He - Harry - was in the wrong position. The maester tried his best to turn or rearrange his position, but it was for nought, with all his attempts failing. He had given up and came to me to alert me of the situation. When we returned to room Lily was held, she held a crying babe to her breast."

"What's her explanation?"

"That he simply appeared in her arms."

"That's impossible," Hardwin Potter protested next to his wife Lolanthe, "Perhaps she created a lie to please you."

"She's an honest woman; I trust her word. She knows the dangers of the test, and she wouldn't risk our son's life on the basis of pleasing me. No matter how much she loves me."

"Say this case is true," The portrait of Marvolo Gaunt said, "It's likely that this is just another show that the magic still runs through our blood. There have been instances like this, for instance, my son - Morfin - was lifting furniture while he was still in the womb. We thought he would be born to be the next Merlin, and it even got to the point where that magic had finally returned to the family. But when he was born, no sign of magic was seen again. Not even accidental.'

"Indeed it may be so," Henry Potter piped in, "But perhaps those were all the signs of magic truly returning to our family and the world. Merope, were you not able to read the minds of people at a certain point in your life?"

"I could," The woman answered, nodding.

"She was a Legilimens. Followed by the instance of your brother - Morfin - and then the permanent return of the Tongue of the Serpent through my son, Fleamont. It could truly be the return of magic to the world," Henry's words got nods of agreement from some of the other portraits, but some were more sceptical.

"How do we know this isn't just like my son's case?" Marvolo interjected.

"By not doing the test," Iolanthe answered, "Wait for the bouts of accidental magic. The test is barbaric and of a darker time. There's a reason we stopped subjecting our children to it," Everyone seemed to agree on her words.

"If you think it wise," James sighed, nodding.

"Now, to tie up loose ends. If magic has truly returned, and word of it reaches the ears of the other Kingdoms - Harry would be in danger... Even more so with the rumours concerning your ancestry floating about after you found that letter Abraham had hidden," Lolanthe continued, "That Maester has to be killed. Keep this information between you and Lily."

* * *

 _286 A.C_

A four-year-boy stood in the middle of a grassy clearing, looking around for any foreign object he could find. He spotted the bark of what was surely a small tree perched on the centre of a rock directly ahead of him; it was almost as if it was placed solely for him to find it. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him towards it. Picking it up, he turned back towards his mother - who sat on a bench under the shade of another tree - he raised it to her attention with a smile.

She returned his smile, "Bring it here, let's see," He ran towards her again, and outstretched it into her grasp. She took it and examined it, turning it on its sides and feeling the wood, "It isn't ideal, but you could ask your father to carve it into anything you want," She said, getting a nod from him. She sighed, "His habits are getting to me. Hold onto it Harry, and we'll ask him when we get back to the castle," Lily handed it back to him, her gaze shifting back to the surrounding scenery.

Harry sat down on the soft grass next to the bench. His mother always berated him for it, but she didn't seem to mind at this moment - or rather she didn't notice him. He put the bark down in front of him and thought about what he wanted it to be carved into. His mother had told him stories of the animals that had supposedly once lived in their lands.

Mammoths, large elephant-like creatures that the Wood Dancers of the Children of the Forest used to fight the First Men. Direwolves, wolves larger than ponies that were also supposedly used by the Wood Dancers to fight the first men, and Basilisks, mighty serpents that could grow up to fifty feet long - the ones present during the time of the First Men. Not the dog-sized ones present today.

His houses sigil was a Basilisk. The Potters, according to his mother, had tamed the giant creatures. Able to communicate with them through a secret language only those with Potter blood were capable of speaking. But they lost the ability to speak it when their blood had gotten far too diluted, and thus lost control of the beasts. Though his grandfather father had obtained the ability, as did his father.

Harry blinked, breaking himself from his train of thoughts before a gleeful smile adorned his lips at sight in front him. The bark had carved itself into the Potter Sigil and floated midair in front of him, woodshavings surrounding it. He outstretched both his hands towards.

"Harry!" A voice - his mothers - startled him, and it all fell onto the grass. She was suddenly on her knees infront of him, touching his face gently as if he had just hurt himself, "I told you not to do that in when you aren't in your room," She picked up the newly carven wood, took his hand and placed it into his grasp,"You have to be careful. We don't want to give your father anymore reason to fear for your safety."

Harry nodded, understanding the truth in her words. His father was already paranoid as it was, and other people didn't know of his powers. Eight guards were always watching over him whenever he played outside, twelve whenever his mother was around too. He didn't fully understand yet, but his knowledge of it was growing. He was the only one who could do what he could. And he had to keep his abilities a secret because other people would kill him because he possessed them. Why? He wasn't sure yet. But he had a theory. They were scared of him. Scared of what he could become one day.

A threat to their power.

* * *

 _289 A.C_

He never did like fighting. He just didn't see where the excitement came from. Watching men put their bodies on the line, risking their lives - all in the name of glory and to attract the eyes of women amazed him greatly. What in the seven hells had to be going on in the heads of the participants of the tourney that inclined them to be part of this?

He understood the need for it, though. It was the celebration of the Crown's victory over the Ironborn. His father had pledged fifty ships from Basilisk bay in Cape Kraken to the Royal Fleet, with the ships only joining the war during the Battle of Fair Isle. The pivotal naval battle was won with their assistance, so it was only natural they were invited to Lannisport for the celebrational tourney.

Harry was good at fighting, or more so archery. His started personally training him when he turned seven. No swords, just archery. He'd mastered it three months later. He was nowhere near his fathers level; regardless, he was still beyond the average archer. Even so, he still wouldn't enter a tournament just so show off his prowess in the skill to others.

He would, however, shoot an arrow at the next Lord that came to him and offered his daughter to him. They didn't outright offer their daughters hand in marriage, he knew they'd have to talk to his father about that, but they'd present her to him, gauge his reaction of her at first sight - then leave as soon as they got what they wanted. He made sure they didn't.

Speaking of his parents, he hasn't seen them today. The night was approaching quickly, and he was partaking in the feast, but he hasn't seen a single glimpse of them. Nevermind that he was forced to represent his house by watching the tourney and attending the banquet alone, but he had a strange sense of paranoia being surrounded by so many people he didn't know. He wasn't sure if it was him, but he some of their eyes linger on him.

"My Lord, the ship is about to depart," Ser Dwan, a member of his mother's special guard, whispered from next to him.

"Ship?" Harry raised an eyebrow, turning to him, "What boat?"

"It isn't safe to talk about it here, my Lord. I beg your forgiveness, but excuse yourself from the feast immediately," It sounded like a command. That's when he knew it was serious; Ser Dwan always treated him with respect - not the sort of obligated respect, but genuine respect. He would hear what he had to say.

Harry stood up from his sit, and gave a slight bow, "Pardon me, my Lords," He walked out of the hall without getting a response, they were all too busy to gorging themselves in food to notice. Ser Dwan followed him closely, "What is it?" He questioned, glancing, "And any news on mother and father?"

"Not yet, my lord," The Knight said, further confusing Harry. He wasn't particularly sure where it would be safe to talk. Or who wasn't supposed to hear the conversation, but he led him into his sleeping chambers, but the Knight had other plans - and pushed Harry past the door, "We must leave the castle."

Harry heaved a sigh, but continued walking. When they had exited the castle, they headed down the road that Harry knew lead towards the port, "Are my parents on the ship you're speaking of? What's happening?"

"My lord and lady are dead."

Harry stopped walking, his head snapping towards the Knight, "What?"

"We must keep walking," Ser Dwan pushed him onwards.

Harry resisted, there was no way his parents would be dead. The thought alone made his eyes well with tears, "You're lying."

"Unfortunately, I am not," The Knight picked him up as if he was a piece of paper, "It isn't safe for you in Westeros anymore."

"No, you're lying! Let me go!" He struggles to break free, even trying to unsheath the Knights sword, but it was all for nought. He was carried all the way to the port, and he struggled the entire journey there. By the time they were onboard the ship, Harry was crying silently. He had no idea what was going on.

Harry turned to the Knight, his fist closed and eyes narrowing, "Answers. Now."

Ser Dwan was confident he felt the temperature drop dramatically, but he answered nonetheless, "They were murdered."


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Not beta'd. Mistakes? Let me know._**

 _'Thoughts'_

"Speech"

 _"Spells._ "

 _& Parseltounge&_

 _#Valyrian#_

* * *

 _302 A.C_

Harry no longer could recall the feeling of snow under his feet. The icy environment he had been born in was nearly lost to him. He was only seven when Ser Dwan had told him he had to leave Westeros, and he had regretted trusting him enough to do so. He should have gone home, inquired on who was responsible for killing his parents and raised his banners.

Life would've been simple. Even if he had lost the war, he most likely would've been executed, and that was preferable to having to wake up every morning fearing and having to fight for his life - or more accurately for him, having to kill a minimum of six people a day. He thought that it was ironic, he had hated fighting - but now he was subjected to it on a daily basis.

But it didn't matter anymore. What Harry loved or hated didn't matter. He was as far away from home as he could be. The ship Ser Dwan and him were travelling in was attacked at night. Ser Dwan had thought it to be the very people that killed his parents, coming after him. But he couldn't have been any further from the truth. It was the Meereenese Fleet, escorting ships filled with slaves.

Ser Dwan's throat was slit in front of him, and he was forced on board one of the slavers ships. Most of the people on board were younger than him; few were older. Some of them were even from Westeros.

Harry was taken to Meereen. He was measured and weighed by other slaves who served the Great Masters, the ones in charge of setting them up into different classes. Some were set up to become servants to the Masters themselves, some were sold again to other Masters in nearby cities, and others were killed because they were handicapped in some way. Others were found strong enough to enter another category of service; the gladiators.

He wasn't surprised when had been cast to the last category - he was taller and broader than most people his age. He was given a sword and shield, and he was told that he was going to entertain the Great Masters and would participate in the Great Games. That was going to be his duty for the rest of his life.

Gladiator fights consisted of confronting two or more slaves, who were to initiate in a battle - with the loser paying the price with his life and the winner having the chance to live and fight another day. The fights took place in an arena, the Great Pit of Daznak. A dry circular perimeter coated by sand. The arenas seating areas are separated into different tiers, differentiated by colours: the bottom tiers, in red and orange colours, are for Great Masters, while those furthest away from the arena, in black and purple, are for the poor and the slaves of Meereen fortunate enough to be allowed to watch.

Most of the gladiators hadn't been previously trained to fight: Something he found the audience enjoy more than the traditional combat. Those who had survived the longest here were the most skilled, and most of the slaves that were new here were put up against the 'veterans'. But Harry was one of the lucky few to fight a new gladiator like him on his first day her. He'd killed his first person that day.

His life had only gotten worse as he won more gladiator fights. He was forced to participate more because people had taken a liking to him - he was one of the only two surviving slaves from his group. The other was an unusually large guy, taller than him - and with noticeably large front teeth. He was also Harry's only friend.

Or at least, the closest thing he could get to a friend. They avoided decapitating each other during 'training', and were never put against each other.

Until today.

 _#We were almost there_ _,#_ Harry whispered in Meereenese Valyrian - he had picked it up from Marar, his friend. Who he was moments away from having to fight. They both stood inside the tunnel that led into the arena. Where they were going to fight each other in front of this new queen. Marar acknowledged him with a shrug, but Harry knew he disliked this as much as he did.

 _#There was never escaping this life. For either of us.#_

 _#And here I was, trying to have a moment with you,#_ Harry smirked when he felt the giants gaze snap towards him.

 _#No attachments,#_ Marar said, his gaze unshifting from him.

 _#We both know it's too late for talk like that.#  
_

The taller man sighed, _#Yes, it is. But I'm not dying for you. That leaves me no other choice but to kill you.#_

 _#You seem so certain that you'll be able to do that,#_ He raised an eyebrow, #Always too arrogant for your own good.#

 _#I have never lost a fight.#_

 _#And I'm standing next to you because I have?#_ Harry paused, heaving a sigh, _#No. Let's not talk like this. It makes it seem like we enjoyed killing all those people#_

 _#I did#_

 _#It's difficult to hate something you're good at. I understand#_

The cheering of the people and the drums of the arena being played signalled it was time for them to enter the arena, _#I hope you understand that I'm not dying for you either#_ Harry said, before jogging towards the rectangular light that was the arena entrance ahead of them.

The crowds' intensity grew as they entered the arena and moved to stand on opposite ends of the conductor. Though that didn't draw his attention - the Queen, however, did.

Only a fool would think her unfair. She had violet eyes, skin that told him that she was once paler than she currently is today, pale silver-gold hair and a slender frame. She sat next to Hizdahr zo Loraq, a member of one of the older slaver families. Next to him was a dwarf, most likely the advisor the other slaves whispered about. On the other side of the Queen, was another beautiful woman - her other advisor, the one who was also once a slave. Standing behind them all was a bearded man, who only stood out to him because he didn't wear the attire of the unsullied.

They all sat on top of a platform, which was hidden from his view by the red, three-headed dragon banner on it's front.

 _'She really is a Targaryen,_ ' Harry eyed her. He didn't believe it before, as he had been told that her house was wiped out a year before he was born. He thought it was a fanatic that wanted to uplift the name of an extinct house.

 _#My Queen, our first contests! Who will triumph: the strong, or the quick?#_ The Conductor gestured towards both of them. Harry was supposed to step up at this moment as they were told.

Harry took a step forward, looking directly at her, _#I fight and die for_ your _glory, oh glorious Queen!#_ His words were hollow, holding no indication of honesty. He saw the Queen's female advisor glance reluctantly towards her.

Marar took a step forward, #I fight and die for your glory, oh glorious Queen# His words were almost passionate, and it took quite a bit of Harry's willpower not to turn towards him. The conductor behind him made for the exit. Harry gripped his spear, waiting for her to clap her hands and begin the fight. It was time again, no hesitation or regret. It was kill or be killed. And he preferred the former.

He paused when it didn't come immediately. Like everyone else, his gaze was on the Queen. She seemed confused as to why everyone had suddenly turned to her, like she didn't know what to do. Hizdahr next to her said something to her he couldn't make out, but she turned back to them having a more hesitant look that an unsure one. She slowly raised her hands.

 _Clap!  
_

Harry bent under a swing from Marar over the roar of the crowd. Rolling away after his opponent brought his sword up for a slash. His attacks were slow, but they were still fast enough to keep Harry on edge. He jumped backwards, avoiding a stab from Marar - whilst mid-air, Harry threw his weapon towards his head. The spear pierced through Marars eye, exiting on the other end of his face - blood spilling out of the back before his body even hit the ground.

The crowds cheering escalated. Harry moved to Marars head and pulled the spear out before they dragged his body away. He didn't gaze upon his dead body for even second. It was necessary. He turned to the surprised faces on the platform and dragged his spear on the sand to dry out the blood.

The conductor returned with more gladiators, looking somewhat displeased.

 _'Probably thought it would have lasted longer_ ,' Harry deduced, as the other gladiators asserted the Queen of their 'vows'. The more he heard them say 'for your glory', the more it felt like they were trying to force it down her throat. Before this - before her - the conductor was the one to give the speech to the slave masters on how they were fighting for their glory.

Once. They didn't need to repeat it. They didn't need to, because the slave masters couldn't give two shits. As long as they got an enjoyable fight.

A sudden silence made him look up towards the Targaryen. Did she forget to clap again? No, it didn't seem like it. Her gaze was focused on the gladiator on the other end of the straight row they stood in. He couldn't tell what she was feeling, but she was certainly surprised. He personally had no idea who the hell the man was, but he was important enough for Hizdahr Zo Loraq to be told something by the bearded man behind them easily interpretable as' shut your mouth'

It lasted a few breaths before she clapped her hands once again. All the fighters in the pit turning to their favoured opponent, including Harry. He faced a partially armoured man, who also wielded a spear of his own. The man spun the weapon his hands, whilst turning it over to his other hand and then over his back. He wanted to intimidate him. It wouldn't take a genius to see that.

Harry brought the shaft of his spear up to block an attack, just at the right angle to prevent the head from shattering the hilt of his own. Using the shaft of his spear, he guided the spear still touching his own to the side - creating an opening for a kick. The man staggered a few steps backwards regaining his balance. Focusing on Harry again, the man charged at him, leaving what Harry believed was an opportunity for the kill.

Harry ran towards him, set on put his spear in the man's head - but just as they got close, the other gladiator somehow managed to put his weapon in the space between Harry's forearm and his arm, and continued to manoeuvre down over his leg and onto the ground, unbalancing him and make Harry drop his own spear - before he gripped tightly onto Harrys body.

He struggled to break out of the hold, but the man didn't budge. It was causing quite a bit of pain on his leg, and it was uncomfortable on his arm. He felt the pain increase as the other fighter tighten his grip on him. Exhaling, he used his other hand to force them man's helmet off and deliver punches on his exposed face. The other fighter seemed to endure some of them, before trying to break the lock but Harry held onto the spear as the man took a few steps back.

"Leaving your weapon was a bit stupid," He raised the spear, thrusting it into the gladiator's face. Killing him.

Harry sighed, before picking up his spear. He turned his upper-body just in time to avoid being punctured by a thin blade. He grabbed his attackers wrist, pulling him with all his might onto the direction of the head of the spear he held in his other hand. It penetrated the gladiator's heart and exited through his back. The man let his guard down, thinking it was an easy kill, Harry deduced.

Harry let go of his weapon, which percolated itself even more through the man as it hit the ground. He picked up a sword from a fallen gladiator on the ground. It was a bit on the long side, but he would manage it. Surveying his surroundings again, he found that he and the man that the Queen was staring at earlier were the only ones alive. He looked relatively unscathed.

He barely focused on Harry, glancing at the Queen on some of the passing moments as they sized each other up. The last Potter took a single glance at the Queen himself; she seemed conflicted - he could practically see it rolling off of her in waves. Turning back to his opponent, he made the first move - an overhead attack. It was deflected, almost effortlessly.

The other fighter countered with an attack of his own, thrusting his sword towards Harry's abdomen - that he dodged. The man was slower than Harry, but he was definitely stronger. Harry dodged a slice, bloodied steel parting the air where he had just been standing. Trying to use the moment of vulnerability, Harry attempted a slice of his own only to be backhanded on the jaw.

He staggered a few steps backwards, clutching his jaw but keeping his guard up. That hurt. His opponent slashed, but Harry loosely parried his attack - before headbutting him. Making him reel backwards this time.

Harry spun his weapon his hands, just as his opponent recovered. The last Potter charged at his opponent, who rolled towards him and made another attempt at stabbing his abdomen. He turned his body to the side just in time to avoid the pointed weapon, but it was what his opponent expect - hooking Harry leg with his hand and making him fall on his back.

The other gladiator was already standing over when Harry had recovered, about to deliver the finishing blow with his sword raised. Thinking fast, Harry kicked at the man's testicles as hard as he could and used his other leg to hook his opponent's ankle so he fell on his back. Harry used this opportunity to get on his feet.

He kicked the groaning gladiator's weapon out of his hands and raised his sword to kill him - paying heed to his own balls.

 _#Stop!#_ Harry heard from the platform where the Queen was seated. It was her who had said it - she still sat on her seat but she a near desperate look on her face.

Harry was reluctant, but he complied nonetheless. Throwing his weapon some distance away from both he and the other gladiator. "Wonder if she would've stopped it a second ago when he almost killed me," He muttered, "Why am I even asking... Of course, she wouldn't have," He said to himself. He was rather unsure of what to do now. Something like this wasn't meant to happen.

So he just stood there. Watching as the man, he had been fighting moments ago stood up. The audience around them made their disapproval known by booing. He still didn't understand what they found so captivating about watching people mutilate each other. He eyed the queen, waiting on what she exactly she wanted him to do. When she stood up, everything went silent.

 _#What's your name, skilled warrior?#_

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," He said simply. She seemed taken aback by his use of the common tongue, as did her companionship.

"Are you Westerosi?" She questioned, enticing a nod from the last Potter, "What's your name?"

Harry stared at her for a moment. If he told her, and she did believe him - it might put him danger... Again. But she was a Targaryen, and they lost the throne twenty-one years ago. By the looks of it, she wanted to take it back. Why else would she be conquering the Free cities? He wanted nothing to do with the Iron Throne. He just wanted House Potters seat in Moat Cailin. Perhaps he wouldn't be in danger, they could be on the same side.

"Har-"

A scream tore through the silence, making them all turn in the direction it came from. A man donned in a golden mask had slit the throat of a woman. All around the arena, some people in the crowd put on the masks - those already wearing them killed the closest person to them and were fighting the Unsullied The crowds were scattering, people were screaming. It was chaos.

He knew it was the Sons of Harpy, the insurgency group opposing the rule of the new Queen.

Harry turned to find the sword he was using, but he caught it midair from the gladiator he was facing - who then ran past him, towards the Targaryen. He helped her down from their platform after a brief pause they shared, moving towards one of the exits. Harry avoided being stabbed by one of the masked men, hitting the mask with the hilt of his sword and slicing open his throat as he staggered back.

The Queen came back into the arena, and he knew immediately that the Sons of Harpy had the exit covered. It seemed like the Queen was trying to get to the one across from them. He moved towards it himself, he didn't fancy dying today. He was a lot closer to it, and just as he was about to open the door - it swung open on its own. Dozens of golden faces stood behind it.

He cut the hand off the one closest to him, who had extended it to try and gut him with his knife. He retreated backwards, whilst avoiding the knives swung his way. Thankfully, there was only one entrance - so he only had to watch his front until he made it back into the arena. He killed three of them before he was back in the arena again. Upon leaving the enclosure of the hall, he noticed the small phalanx of Unsullied surrounding the Queen and forming a protective circle around her.

He positioned himself in the middle of a group of Unsullied troops, near the forefront position of the right flank. The Sons of Harpy flooded out of the exit way he had just been covering, adding more numbers to those who already surrounded them. He could hear the heavy breathing of the Unsullied soldiers next to him. His previous fights, coupled with how he was scared of his losing added to the fatigue that was slowly crawling onto him.

But he refused to die here. He couldn't die, not yet. There was no way he'd make it all those years of fighting gladiators only to be killed by people who most likely haven't been fighting for as long as he has. The circle was getting smaller by the second, with more of the Unsullied being killed off. He exhaled sharply when they had reached his position, he side-stepped a stab - holding onto the wrist of masked man before guiding his torso onto his sword, taking the knife from his hands. Only to throw it into the chest of the next Son of Harpy with his free hand.

Two more came towards him; he bent his torso backwards to avoid the slash of the first insurgent, before dropping his own sword and grabbing onto the man's arm and using his body as shield against the next attackers stab - again taking the knife from his hands and throwing it into the second Harpy's chest.

 _& I'll burn you all!& _A loud sound from the sky made the entire arena stop, silence overtaking the chaos. It sounded like a screech to most, but Harry could understand it as clear as he could Valyrian or the common tongue. He - like everyone else- turned to the sky. A dragon soared out of a flame burst, _ &You dare harm mother!&_

It was the most majestic thing Harry's ever seen. Although that wasn't saying much. He circled the arena, and some the Sons of Harpy started backing away from them. It landed with a ground-shaking thud some distance in front of the Queen. Which Harry assumed was who it meant by 'mother'. Harry knew he was most likely the only one who could understand it fully, he was sure the Targaryen could too, but to a lesser the degree.

The Targaryen front was covered by two guards just as a Son of Harpy attempted to attack her, but he was wholly disposed of when the dragon reached out with its head and engulfed the man's upper body with its mouth - shaking his large head until the lower body of the man in its jaws tore off. It then proceeded to throw the body in its mouth towards a group of unsullied before breathing fire upon them.

It turned to another group, burning them - before a spear found its way to its back. Harry caught himself, morphing his bewildered expression into a serious one. It wasn't invincible, it could be hurt. He needed to get it to leave before it was killed. He was certain Unsullied reinforcements would soon be here., they would be fine.

Another spear found the dragon's neck.

 _& You need to leave!&_

"Drogon!"

The Queen and he shouted at the same time, but only the Unsullied soldiers next to him glanced his way. The Targaryen moved towards the dragon, grabbing the spear that was embedded in the beast and using her strength to pull it out. There were no words that Harry could make out as it turned to her, roaring into her face before it stopped - as if recognising who it was about to unleash its fury on.

 _'She's gonna get herself and the dragon killed,'_ Harry frowned at the scene. It was as if they forgot they were surrounded by people who wanted to kill them, _& Go! Before they kill you!&_

The Dragon immediately raised its head, looking directly towards him, _& A Speaker?&_ A spear found its way into its lower back, and it gave out a roar of pain. The Queen climbed onto the dragon, as more spears were thrown towards it. She whispered something, and it moving towards the middle of the arena - as if preparing to take-off, but it stopped directly in front of the last Potter - much to the surprise of the Queen.

 _& I give you permission to ride me to safety, Speaker& _It turned to him, growling lowly. Harry didn't need to be told twice. He needed to escape. .

"How?.." He heard the Queen whisper from the top of it. Harry climbed up as fast he could, trying to avoid more harm being done to the rare beast. It started running as soon as he was on, nearly reaching the end of the arena circle before thrusting itself upwards, launching itself into the sky. It continued ascending, eventually getting to the point of giving both its riders a birds-eye view of Meereen. Though Harry couldn't see it with the bloody cape of the Queen's dress covering his face

Harry folded the ends of the cloak with hand before quickly put the hand back down to secure his grip. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. He was slightly nervous; he had never been so high in the sky.

"Who are you?" The Targaryen asked after a moment.

Harry took a breath, "Harry Potter."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading.**

 **Please leave a review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: Hope you all have a blessed 2019._**

 ** _Not beta'd. Mistakes? Let me know._**

 ** _While we're on that, would anyone like to be my beta? Help me with grammar and such? Just Pm or review. Thanks._**

 _'Thoughts'_

"Speech"

 _"Spells._ "

 _& Parseltounge&_

 _#Valyrian#_

 _*Dothraki*_

* * *

 _302 A.C_

&You're tired and in pain,& Harry said, standing on the edge of the grassy plateau, &I get that. But did you have to leave us here of all places?& There was no sign of anything resembling civilization in sight. And Drogon - as he had heard the queen call the dragon - refused to take them anywhere else. The Targaryen seemed to push the issue, but Harry didn't care much. He was just curious as to why here of all places. Why in this particular direction?

"Is that how you understand him? You just...hiss?" She turned to him, shifting her gaze from the dragon. They had engaged in small talk on Drogon, and it was the most awkward Harry had ever felt.

"In essence, yes."

"And this is related to you supposedly being a Potter?" She wore a frown.

"Supposedly? You don't believe me?" Harry also adopted a frown.

"The Potter line ended thirteen-years ago during the Tourney at Lannisport."

"And the Targaryen line ended after the War of the Usurper. Yet, here we both are," Harry gestured to both of them, "Only the Potters have been known to communicate with Serpents. How could you possibly explain me having the ability?"

She became silent, observing him for a moment. Before asking, "Why didn't you fight with your people?"

"Fight with my people?" Harry raised an eyebrow, and his confusion rose when her eyes widened slightly.

"You left Westeros after what happened to your parents didn't you?"

"Yes. I've been fighting in that pit since I was eight," He answered, frowning again, "What does that have to do anything? Was there some sort of war?"

She nodded, "The lords of the Snowfields declared war on House Lannister. They claimed that they were the ones responsible for the death of your parents, and your own. The Crown ordered them to drop their banners, and return home. They refused."

"And?..." Harry drawled, even though he knew the answer.

"They were destroyed."

He felt that was coming. His fate would've been no different if he had returned home that night, "Who was placed as Warden?"

"No one. The Snowfields were amalgamated into The North," She paused, adorning a sympathetic expression, "I'm sorry."

He turned back towards their mountainous surroundings. That meant he would have to fight The North to liberate. Therefore the crown itself. Even all of that was assuming the bannermen would even accept him. Things didn't seem so simple now."What are you doing in Meereen?"

"Freeing the slaves."

"Is that what you were doing when you were watching me, a slave, fight for his life?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"The Sons of Harpy refused to obey the new laws. Accomodations needed to be made to protect the people. I detest slavery and all those who partake in it," The way she had said, the venom on her tongue when had said the word 'slavery' made him believe her. He still didn't fully understand it still, but he figured that now wasn't the time.

Harry coughed, "We need to go."

As if remembering what she was doing before, she turned to Drogon - getting on her knees.

"That won't work. He's far too tired and hurt," He looked down from the edge of the plateau, "We need to find the closest settlement."

"I don't know where that is," She admitted, "But I'm not leaving him here, alone. He's hurt. He needs me."

"It's either that or we stay hungry. I don't fancy dying of starvation. Let's at least go look for food."

She stroked the dragons head silently. And Harry felt like she was ignoring the situation altogether, but she rose and addressed him, "We should go back in the same direction we came in. Back to Meereen."

Well, perhaps going back wouldn't be the worst idea. He doubted she would just leave him where she found him now that she knew who he was. But it was quite a bit of distance away from where they were. However, he saw no alternative. It would take sometime before Drogon fully healed. And they couldn't take off in a random direction, "This looks like the least steep point up here, we'll have to climb down."

"Do you have any experience climbing?" She raised an elegant eyebrow.

"No, but he obviously isn't going to take us down from here," He gestured towards the now sleeping dragon, "And there's no path down. So we're forced to climb. Keep that cloth around your hands to protect them," He started climbing down. It wasn't too steep, now that he started climbing down. He definitely didn't hang off the side of the plateau, and there were ledges he landed on when his muscles started to ache.

He felt he could do it faster alone, but he stayed beneath her - guiding her legs onto a standing point whenever she couldn't find one on her own. It felt like hours later, but they eventually did reach the bottom. He felt his fatigue truly catching up to him. He hadn't gotten any rest since before the gladiator fights in the Pits of Meereen. His hands shook when he tried to raise them, and he couldn't focus - and his mind wandered off more than usual.

"Are you tired?" He heard her voice from behind him. He nodded without looking at her, "We could rest, for a -" He collapsed to the floor before she could finish her sentence, heaving a sigh. She shook her head, before laying the weight of her back on a rock behind her.

"You never told me your name, you know," Harry stated, becoming quiet for her to answer. He moved his hands to his sides to relax them.

"Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," She responded after a heartbeat.

"How did you manage to survive the War of the Usurper?" The last Potter questioned.

"My brother and I were taken to exile in the Free Cities before Stannis could take Dragonstone, not long after I was born."

"Stannis... That name sounds familiar," Harry murmured, but she heard him.

"He's Roberts brother. Stannis Baratheon," She explained.

"Wait... Did you say you had a brother, just before?" He raised his upper body through the muscle aches, turning to her with his eyebrows furrowed, "What happened to him?"

"My husband killed him," She said simply. Harry felt like there was more to that, but his own curiosity wasn't worth it. He laid back down, closing his eyes. He needed to rest, they had a long journey ahead of them.

* * *

"It's easy for you to say, you were sitting on a throne while I was fighting for my life in front of you."

"Did you want me to leave you?" Daenerys asked him. They were both walking in the same direction they had come in on Drogon. Harry wanted to sleep for a few more hours, whilst she wanted to travel as far as they could before night came.

"You couldn't, even if you wanted to. I may have been young when I left Westeros, but I was getting an understanding on how the world worked," Harry started, "Imagine what would happen to you, a Queen, if you were found travelling alone. You would be unsafe travelling alone. You know that."

"Then why didn't you just continue sleeping? If you think I truly need you so much?"

"Because I had a feeling you would've left anyway," He rubbed his temples, "Don't misunderstand. I need you too. Imagine what your advisors would do to me if I showed up without you, and told them you were raped and killed. I doubt they would wait for an explanation. They -" Harry stopped walking and she did the same. He heard horses. He turned back, and saw hundreds of men on them - some distance away, but approaching fast.

He turned back ahead of them and saw a man stop his horse close by, a long-tipped spear in one hand. Another group of four approached them from their right, "Who are they?"

"Dothraki," She answered, removing the ring she wore and dropping it, "They'll take me as captive. But they will try and kill you."

"I..." Harry gulped, "There's no way I'm beating all those people."

"You don't have to," She told him, almost calmly, "They'll send one of their riders to kill you. Kill him, and they'll let you go. They respect strength and have a distaste for weakness."

"Killing is just as unavoidable here as it is in the fighting pits isn't it?" He asked no one in particular, but he felt her slowly turn to him for a moment, before turning back to the incoming Dothraki again. "I regret leaving my weapon in the Pit."

"Pray a Bloodrider isn't the one to fight you," Daenerys warned.

"Prayers have never helped me," They were both soon surrounded. They gave out fierce war cries as they surrounded the pair on foot. That added to the intimidation Harry was feeling - which he figured was the point of the war cries. They respected and hated weakness, and that meant he had to go against his thought of surrender. He adopted a serious expression and dug his right foot into the ground. A method he had created in his time in the Pit to show his opponent he wasn't scared of him, even if he was a couple of time bigger than he.

The sounds they made were soon replaced by silence. A bearded Dothraki on his horse was in front of them, on his horse - eyeing them, or more so, Daenerys. He seemed almost dismissive of Harry's presence. And he broke the silence, *Pluck his eyes out. Take the white-haired bitch*

The Dothraki that was next to him moved towards them on his horse slowly, one hand held the rein on his horse, the other an Arakh. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to beat him whilst he was on his horse. The last Potter had no weapon, and he wasn't on a horse. His disadvantage was absolute. And for the first time in a while, he had no plan in battle. He saw no way out.

"A rock," He heard a whisper from behind him, just before the sounds of mild struggling. His eyes found the grass, spotting a sizeable rock just next to him - he immediately picked it up, an idea forming. If he could just manage to get him off his horse, that would give him a fighting chance. He threw it with all his might at the approaching rider, who was surprised enough at his sudden movements for the rock to him square in the face.

The Dothraki jerked his horse's reins as he fell backwards, causing the horse to neigh and lift up into the air, knocking its rider off its back. He was on top of the disoriented man just as he hit the floor, punching him as hard as he could and as many times as he could. The man seemed to catch his bearing for a moment, grabbing his Arakh with his free hand and tried to strike Harrys back.

His wrist was caught by the Potter, who twisted it and forced him to drop the weapon. The Dothraki brought his hands to Harry's head, trying to gouge his eyes with his thumb. Again, he was overpowered by Harry, who used his own hands to remove the man's hands from his face. They locked eyes, and everything became silent.

Harry smirked, confusing the man enough for him to quickly roll off him and pick up the weapon that his opponent had dropped. His opponent was on his feet as well, but weaponless. Harry expected the others to help his opponent, but they did not. He rushed forward, and the Dothraki rolled back to avoid a swing that did not come. When he got onto the crouching position, appearing ready to make some sort of counter - Harry stood over him.

"Sorry," Harry sliced his head clean off, some blood splattering onto his face. He turned towards the surrounding Dothraki horde. Their numbers were overwhelming, and if they decided to send more than one to fight him, he would lose. Another charged on his horse, spear in hand. Harry looked at the weapon in his hands, it was long enough. He slashed horizontally, before rolling back to avoid the horse that now had a large cut on its neck from falling onto him. Like the horse itself, the Dothraki on it fell forward - in front of Harry.

He lazily swung his arm, cutting the throat of the man directly underneath him. He released an audible breath through his nose - taking a moment to turn to Daenerys. They had tied her up, but she looked relatively okay. He turned to the man who had told the others to kill him. Half anticipating another Dothraki to come and try to kill him.

None came.

* * *

They had offered him a horse. An offer which he would've gladly taken if he knew how to ride one. His father had been so focused on honing his archery skills, he had never taught him how to ride a horse. They were taking him to meet their Khal, along with Daenerys. He didn't know what that entailed, but Daenerys assured him that they would give him the opportunity to join the Khalasar.

One of the riders happened to understand and speak Valyrian, he translated speech for him. Luckily for Hary. He wouldn't be able to understand most of what they said otherwise.

He kept the Arakh. He shared as much distrust for them as they did for him, and he wasn't going to take chances. He was cautious, prepared to defend himself at a moments notice. They were in a wasteland. He couldn't understand for the life of him why anyone would want to be around this area. A place that looked devoid of any life, or even water. These people were interesting.

He trudged next to the translator, behind the man that Harry was almost certain was the first person he wanted to kill. He whipped Daenerys for no reason. When she tripped, lifted her hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead or even randomly. He laughed after, something that further displeased the last Potter. Harry nearly did react when he had asked the translator to interpret their words.

They threw insults at her. Conversing about fucking her, as if she wasn't there, but reminding her that they knew that she was by staring at her. He didn't like it, but it made sense to him. She was the first person he's talked to that didn't want to kill him - or didn't expect him to be killed - in awhile. She also wanted to stop slavery. Only someone kind of heart would do that... Or someone who wanted to make an appearance.

His instinctive actions were prevented by the Khalasar stopping near a water source. Something that surprised Harry. The conditions here seemed to worsen the further into the wasteland they went, but water was somehow still present.

He was directed towards the side of the lake by the translator, #Stay here, foreigner,# the Dothraki commanded, throwing him a water skin, and galloping away on his horse. Harry took the time to drink water, to be safe. He laid down again, his weapon still held firmly in hand. He had grown used to being under the scorching sun, it wasn't a bother anymore. At least as much as it once was.

He remembered the constant sunburn he would get when he was a lot younger from being exposed to the sun. They made his life even more hellish than it already was. He wouldn't be given any sort of lotion to treat them or even a break for his body to recover. He had to endure them, as did every other gladiator. But his body adapted a lot faster than the others. And with the help of trick he had learned, they disappeared in time.

Someone being shoved to the floor next to him broke his train of thoughts. She had her back turned to him, and he could see the painful marks of the repetitive whipping she had been victim of through the little parts her back her hair didn't cover. Which he was sure the sun didn't help with. He crouched, "How much does it hurt?"

She remained silent but turned to meet his eyes. He expected to see her tired and sore. But she had a determined expression to her, even though there was a hint of fatigue, "It..." She released some air through her nose, closing her eyes, "Hurts. It hurts quite a bit."

Harry nodded in understanding. He filled the waterskin with water, crouching in front of her - and helping her drink. Her hands were still tied.

"Thank you," She said after she had gotten her fill.

He nodded again, filling the waterskin once again. He sat down with his back to the rest of Khalasar, raising his left knee to cover as much of the between her back and it as it could. He could sense her unvoiced confusion, but he chose to continue. He moved some of her hair away, before gently placing his index and middle finger on her back.

She flinched away, turning to look at him with narrowed eyebrows, "I'm helping. I promise," He said. She stared at him, something he assumed was her considering whether or not to do what he wanted to do. The Targaryen turned away, and he understood it was permission for him to continue. He placed his index and middle finger on her back, and concentrated.

He heard her moan in relief, a sure sign for him that it was working. Harry grinned. He's only ever done this to himself, or rather, it's only ever worked for himself. He's tried to do it on Marar on a single occasion when the other gladiator had gotten hurt - but to no avail. Marar didn't know of his attempt, of course. Basically, it was meant to accelerate the healing process by gently focusing some magic throughout the body.

Well, that was best he could explain. It was magic. A source of power only he had access to, he was the first Potter to inherit it in centuries. It was also something he had little understanding of. He tried not to think about it because his anger would swell at thought of his father teaching him archery instead of what would've truly given him an edge in battle - magic. It didn't mean anything now, however. He'd learned to survive. Magic or not, he was going to continue to do so.

He continued the healing process until the only evidence of her being hurt was the red colour her skin had momentarily adopted on her back. He stood up, picking up his weapon as he did so. The last Potter glanced around, making sure no one had seen him. He could see the Queen trying to formulate a conclusion on how he just did what he did.

Before she could directly ask him, the very same Dothraki that been whipping her and his friend hoisted her up. The translator also walked past Harry, #Come# Harry followed him. They were taken to the biggest tent, in the centre of the entire Khalasar. There were three men and two women. The one that stood out the most was the one sitting on the leather chair, he had a braided beard and tanned skin. He wore a half-dismissive and half-intrigued expression.

He must be the Khal.

*For you, my Khal. The white-haired girl we found in the hills,* She was shoved towards him. The Khal eyed her silently. The words were translated for Harry by the Dothraki who knew Valyrian silently, being whispered into Harry's ear.

*Look at those lips, blood of my blood,* One of the men sitting down commented.

*Blue-eyed women are witches*

*It is known* The women to the Khal's left agreed.

*Cut of her head, before she casts a spell on you,* She continued. That didn't sit well with Harry, he needed her alive and well. If they went through with that, he'd have to fight them to save her.

*Even if I was blind, I'd hear my wives say - "Cut off her head" - and I'd know this woman is beautiful. I'm glad I'm not blind. Seeing a beautiful woman naked for the first time, what is better than that?*

*Killing another Khal?*

*Yes, killing another Khal* The Khal conceded.

*Conquering a city and taking her people as slaves, and taking her idols back to Vaes Dothrak.*

*Breaking a wild horse, forcing it to submit to your will*

*Seeing a beautiful woman naked for the first time is among the five best things in life,* The Khal said, clearly irritated. Harry had to stop himself from scowling as the words were translated to him. Nearly thirteen years later, he still questioned how people would find pleasure in things such as 'war' or 'killing'. Perhaps he should ask one of them. That would be quite the conversation for him.

The Khal gripped on Daenerys dress - which somewhat surprised Harry, but he took a step forward still. The Queen said something to the Khal in Dothraki as well, but the translator was silent behind him. The Khal seemed unsure as to where to turn, between him or Daenerys.

*You did not tell me of the other bitch,* The braided man finally said, but his attention was drawn again by the Mother of Dragons.

*I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of the Great Grass sea, the Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.*

Silence descended into the tent. Harry had no idea what she had said, but it was apparently prominent enough to give them pause. That was until they started laughing, and she visibly deflated. He grabbed her hair.

"Stop or he'll kill you."

The Khal turned to Harry once again. Staring at the last Potter, *A boy is unbefitting of such a woman. I will cut your dick out and feed it to you before I lay with her*

*I do not lay with children. I was wife to Khal Drogo, son of Khal Bharbo."

Another silence befell the tent, and Harry was completely lost. The translator behind him had stopped speaking to him. Though he did indeed stop his attempts to help, as she had told him - heeding her warning. If this man was the strongest of all these people, what were his chances of beating him?

*Khal Drogo is dead*

*I know. I burnt his body*

*Forgive me. I did not know. It is forbidden to lie with a Khal's widow. No one will touch you. You have my word,* The Khal cut the rope that bound the Queen, *When a Khal dies, there is only one place for his Khaleesi. Vaes Dothrak. The temple of the dosh Khaleeen. Where she will live out her days with the widows of dead Khals. You will be taken there*

She visibly deflated, making Harry raised an eyebrow. What did they tell her now?

The Khal turned to him, *What of him?*

The translator spoke to Harry again, who replied, #I wish to join the Khalasar,#

*He wishes to your Khalasar, my Khal,* The man now standing next to Harry translated, #He killed Avvo whilst unarmed and proceeded to kill Daeko with Avvo's' Akrah. Which he now wields as his own*

The Khal moved to sit down again. A moment passed.

Before he nodded.

* * *

 **A/N** : **Thanks for reading.**

 **Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N:Not beta'd. Mistakes? Let me know._**

 ** _While we're on that, would anyone like_ _to be my beta? Help me with grammar and such? Just Pm or review. Thanks._**

 _'Thoughts'_

"Speech"

 _"Spells._ "

 _& Parseltounge&_

 _#Valyrian#_

 _*Dothraki*_

* * *

 _303 A.C_

They had travelled again. Only this time, Harry was free to do almost anything he pleased. But he kept to himself - having very little understanding of the Dothraki religion or how the society worked - he learned that it was the best way not to be bothered the hard way. Harry had offered a woman some water, and looking back at it, he should've felt something was off.

She wore some clothing, but her breasts and ass were exposed - and she had some blue painted marking on her skin. The woman was all over him the next moment, pulling at his pants and messaging his crotch. He pushed her off him, but the next moment he was fighting another Dothraki that was screaming at him. Of course, he had no idea what the man was saying.

He somewhat easily disposed of the Dothraki and got away from the woman - having no interests in involving himself in another fighter. The translator, Jhakho, told him that the man had most likely assumed that Harry was fucking the woman, and he was interested in doing the same. So he planned to kill him before proceeding to do so. Harry thought that was one hell of a stupid reason to die.

Harry was always either with Jhakho or by himself since then. Even then, the only reason he sat with the Dothraki was that he was the only one that could translate the Dothraki tongue for him.

The only reason he was still here was that of Daenerys. They had travelled to Vaes Dothrak, and they shoved her into the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen where all widows of the Dothraki Khal's resided and also where the Khalar Vezhven - a great gathering of all the Dothraki Khalasars - took place. The widows also oversee the religion of the Dothraki, advise the Khal's, and administrate Vaes Dothrak.

The Khal's had already assembled the following night. He'd seen her being forced back into the Temple by the Dosh Khaleen; he assumed they were most likely deciding on her fate. He was at a loss on what to with Daenerys. He had no idea how he was going to help her at all. Harry decided to be closest he could be to her and spent most of his day sitting on the riverbank of the water stream near the temple, he understood that, however, was still doing nothing at all.

He noted that it was a secluded place, the Dothraki rarely came here - and he understood why they much preferred to drink wine than water, especially in this sort of atmosphere. Because of that, Harry asked Jhakho to teach him how to ride a horse. The Dothraki didn't seem surprised at all at the request and complied without much complaint.

 _#Sit back if you want her to slow down#_ The Dothraki said, _#Use your weight#_ Harry had learned most of what he needed to in a few hours. Walking, running, turning and even jumping. He struggled a bit when it came to stopping, surprisingly, it was something he assumed would be the most natural step. But for him at least, it was a problem.

For some reason, riding disappointed him. He expected it to be more thrilling - he assumed his heart would race and his blood to pump in ears. It felt slow, even though he knew it moved a lot faster than he could go on foot, _#I'm stopping. I'll try again tomorrow#_

Jhakho nodded, silently watching Harry dismounted, _#It's time we find two bitches to fuck and drown ourselves with wine#_

 _#I don't understand your fascination with all that.#_

 _#I don't understand your negligence of some of the greatest things in life. The women here throw themselves at you - something I don't grasp because you're not that appealing to look at - but you deny them your cock? Then there's your distaste for drinking#_

 _#That's your way of living. Not mine,#_ Harry shrugged, gesturing for him to take his horse.

 _#You'll die a virgin, foreigner. You'll never understand the pleasure of seeing a woman naked for the first time,#_ The Dothraki mounted the horse.

 _#I can't regret what I don't understand,#_ Harry said, making the man shake his head before jabbing on the horses' side, rushing back into the busy city. He unfastened his waterskin from his side, taking a quick drink before sitting down with a grunt, refocusing on the Temple in front of him. He wondered what her fate would, and if he should start preparing to leave without her.

That certainly would be a setback. Perhaps the dragon would listen to him? He was confident he could liberate his home with the help of a dragon. His thoughts were stopped when he saw flames erupt on the side of the building. He released a breath through his mouth and stood up, hearing the screams and running towards the Temple entrance, which was on the side he couldn't see from the riverbank.

The fire spread quickly. Already engulfing the entire building by the time Harry was near the entrance. The people were gathering around the Temple as it collapsed, all of them recognising the futility of even trying to put them out. Harry didn't see any way for her to survive that... If she had, he could try healing her with his magic.

He could feel the heat it emitted from here.

The doors of the Temple collapsed.

He waited silently, as did the everyone else. He didn't know what he expected if he was truthful. He didn't know what they expected. His eyes widened when Daenerys herself stepped out, naked and unburnt. He could hear all the people behind him get on their knees, but he stood - unmoving. She was immune to fire. Quite the gift to have, considering she had a dragon, he supposed.

She was unique, but he wasn't going to bow. Partially because she had a body, he was confident many men would kill just to get a glimpse of. And he now had it in full display in front of him

But mainly because he wanted to know if she was as unique as he was.

* * *

The next morning, Harry stood behind Daenerys, between the two other men, both of whom he remembered seeing in the Pits. It was apparent that they had tracked them here, and helped Daenerys with killing the Khal's by keeping the doors shut. Now she had an army of Dothraki, coupled with the Unsullied that awaited her return at Meereen. He doubted anyone in Westeros had a bigger army.

She was quietly looking back into the city - only turning to them a moment later. Or rather, the man to Harrys' left, "I banished you, twice. You came back, twice. And you saved my life," She paused as if expecting a retort from the man. She continued walking towards him, "So I can't take you back. And I can't send you away."

"You must send me away," He stepped back, and the one in leather clothing next to Harry took one forward - as if to prevent her from stepping any closer to him. The man pulled up his yellow sleeve.

'What the fuck is that?' Harry thought, taking a step away from him. The skin on his forearm looked dead, it was cracked and flaking, and stone-like in appearance.

"Is there a cure?" Daenerys questioned. Harry could see she was holding back tears. Did the man genuinely mean that much to her?

"I don't know."

"How long does it take?" She continued.

"I don't know that either. But I've seen what happens when it goes far enough. I'll end things before then," He responded, and that seemed to do it for Daenerys

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," A single tear slipped down her cheeks.

"Don't be sorry. All I've ever wanted was to serve you... Tyrion Lannister was right. I love you," He stopped, before continuing, "I'll always love you. Good-"

Harry coughed, stopping what was a rather awkward confession for him was. Strangely enough, he regretted speaking before he even uttered a word, "Can we not just cut your arm off before it spreads?" The two men seemed surprised at his use of the common tongue.

"No. It will just start again somewhere else, "The other man, who had been quiet the entire time, answered. Harry nodded silently. A few heartbeats passed before the infected man spoke again.

"Goodbye, Khaleesi," He turned, walking away.

"Do not walk away from your queen, Jorah the Andal," She stopped him in his tracks, walking closer to him once again, "You have not been dismissed... You pledged yourself to me. You swore to obey my commands for the rest of your life," Jorah gave a curt nod, "I command you to find a cure, wherever it is. I command you to heal yourself. And then return to me. When I take the Seven Kingdoms, I need you by my side."

He was silent, for a moment before nodding once again, "Yes, Khaleesi," He turned back, continuing to walk down the hill.

When he was out of sight, the Targaryen steeled herself and turned to Harry, "And you. You didn't leave."

"Did you want me to?"

"I expected you to," She answered. Her eyes were slightly red from crying.

"I remember saying I needed you," Harry put in.

"Was that after you made it clear that I needed you for protection?"

"No, rather, it was before I gave you water and... Helped you with your back," Harry retorted, mentally questioning the change in attitude. But he continued, "...Did they hurt you anymore?"

She was quiet momentarily, before responding, "They did not."

"Can you keep my abilities to yourself?"

"I'll consider it. If you tell me about them."

* * *

"My father called it magic," They rode a bit further away from the Dothraki, and Daario, her advisor. Who seemed rather interested in the subject himself

"Magic? Like the magic of the North or The Warlocks of Qarth?"

"I know nothing about The Warlocks of Qarth. But my father nearly punished me once, when I compared what I have to Northern magic," He shook his head, "No. It isn't the same. It's entirely different; he made sure I understood that."

"Did he explain how?" The Queen inquired.

"No, at least not in detail. The only thing I know about it is that the last person to have it was Ignotus Peverell, a long time ago," Harry explained, "And that it's a bloodline limit, so it's limited to me and my ancestry. Or it would've been if others before me had it."

"Is it limited to healing?"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe? As I said, I don't know a lot about it. Even the healing hasn't worked on anyone else but me before you. I don't even know how I do it, myself. All I understand is that it takes a great deal of concentration, and a strong desire to stop the pain. From there... My magic follows."

She nodded in understanding, "It's odd. The most interesting part about your house isn't what it's known for."

Harry hummed in agreement, "They were more interested in us being able to talk to reptiles than anything else."

A silence followed. Harry wondered if it was only limited to healing. And if it wasn't, what other things could he do? What sort of spells would he be able to do? The prospect of getting a better understanding of his abilities excited him. Having no one to teach him, he'd have to educate himself. If it was even possible, it would take a long time master his magic.

"Why did you help me?"

"Excuse me?" His attention went back to her.

"As much as you believed you needed me, you truly didn't. You could've returned to Meereen or any of the free cities, smuggled yourself onto a boat going to Westeros. Why did you decide not to abandon me?"

He recognised the unspoken question. _What do I owe you?_ He conceded that she was right, he could've just left. What did he want? Nothing was the first thought that came to mind. He indeed didn't need anything from her. Not even gold. He didn't also want her arm. He'd come to realise that he couldn't force people to be loyal to him. He would return home and hope the lords of the Snowfields still retained their loyalty, "I haven't an idea if I'm truthful. It just felt like the right thing to do. To stay. To help you."

"And now what? What happens when we get to Meereen?"

"I go back to Westeros. There's nothing for me in Meereen," He replied, and she nodded in understanding, "I have a question for you. How do your dragons even exist?" Harry adopted a frown.

She looked forward onto the path they were taking, before starting to go through a summarised explanation of how she had acquired the dragon eggs - briefly mentioning the Khal she had been forced to marry, but ended up loving - and continuing onto how she burned his body on the pyre, where she had also place the dragon eggs. How she walked into the burning pyre herself, to become Mother of Dragons when the fire had burnt out.

By the end of it, Harry wanted to ask how many pairs of clothing she's lost because of her immunity to fire. But he held his tongue, "You're an interesting woman," He noticed the ghost of a frown when he turned to her, "And now, you want to take back the Iron Throne?" he asked, enticing a nod from the Targaryen, "You have my support. As insignificant as that is currently."

"You're right, it is insignificant," She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, " But I'm sure you can rectify that."

"I'll make sure I do," He added, his eyes narrowing. He honestly hoped she didn't assume he was going to bend the knee.

She furrowed her eyebrows suddenly, looking straight ahead towards the curvature on the path, "Tell the rest of them to wait here, with you," She suddenly took off on her horse, something that confused Harry - but he made no effort to go after her. He doubted she would just decide to go ahead for no valid reason. He stopped his horse when he noticed Daario the rest of Khalasar speeding towards him.

"Where is she going?" Daario stopped next to him.

"No idea. She just took off and told me to wait.," Harry responded, the sellsword nodded.

"Who-" A loud screech interrupted him.

"How did she even manage to get him? Was he following us all this time?" Harry whispered to himself. Another screeching sound sent his horse into disarray, forcing him to calm it down. The shadow of Drogon passed through the Khalasar, only then did Harry turn to the sky. Drogon's shriek overshadowed the neigh of the unsettled horse. He flew over and nearby hill, turning around to land in front of the Khalasar, and him.

She then proceeded to give what he assumed was a speech, the roaring of the Khalasar and her use of the Dothraki tongue confirming his thoughts. He turned to the black and red scaled dragon, noting that it was significantly larger than it was at Meereen. He was also fully healed. As if sensing his gaze, its giant head turned to him - but the Queen atop him took no notice, continuing her speech.

 _& Greetings.& _Drogon hissed silently, intent on not interrupting his mother. Harry nodded gently. _& You still live, speaker? I had come to save you and mother. But mother conquered them before I could burn them all. Unfortunately.&_

The last Potter frowned, so it had been trailing them. That was not what concerned him, however, why it was so important to the dragon that he was a parseltongue did. Drogon had no old dragon that could have told him the 'value' of the ability if it held any at all. But based on recent events, it was prominent enough to the dragon that it had taken him with Daenerys in Meereen. And it continued to include him when it thought of saving his mother from the Dothraki.

Harry remained quiet, deciding to question the dragon on the issue some other time. The Dothraki whooped the loudest as Daenerys ended her speech, Drogon giving out another screech Harry could not translate with them.

"She's a remarkable woman, isn't she?" Daario commented from next to him.

Harry nodded, "She is."

"You say you were with her since you left Meereen?" The sellsword asked, enticing a nod from the boy, "How did you survive the Dothraki?"

"I've been fighting for my life in the Pits of Meereen since I was eight. I know how to fight."

"I was being trained to be a Pit fighter from the age of twelves," Daario put in, "Had my first fight at age sixteen."

"Trained? I thought we only trained after our first battle. And even then, it was just another excuse for us to kill the weaker fighters a few days before we entered the arena to make things more interesting," Harry scowled.

"The sport was turning more into entertainment for them than a way of making money," He shrugged, "But I imagine it must have been thrilling for you when you realised you were better than everybody else."

Harry's eyes widened before he grimaced, "Thrilling? No. I won't lie and say I wasn't relieving when I figured out I learned faster than most of them because I understood that it increased my chances of living as long I as I could. But I didn't want to kill; I would've even spared the ones that wanted to kill me if I could. I knew I couldn't."

He felt the man stare at him for a moment, "Here - or anywhere really - that sort of thinking would get you killed. Sparring your enemies always comes back to bite your ass."

"I'll ride ahead, try to get to Meereen faster. I'm leaving command of the Dothraki to you Daario," Daenerys voice stopped a retort from Harry.

"My Queen," The sellsword nodded, an odd smile plastered on his face. She nodded at both of them, before taking off on her dragon - Drogon screeching as they lifted into the air, "I noticed you don't have a weapon."

Harry bobbed his head, "Vaes Dothrak prohibited them."

"Sword or Akrah"

"Sword."

* * *

"They want us back" Harry said to himself, the wind that came with the running of his horse and the war cries of the Dothraki behind him making his voice sound faint. He could see the smoke the rising off into the sky; they were close. He'd be lying if said that it wouldn't satisfy him seeing the city burn, but unfortunately, the loss of lives that came with it diminished any joy he would have possibly gotten from the situation.

Then there was the possibility of him losing his freedom once again. Something he was going to make sure wouldn't happen. There were thousands of Dothraki behind him. It should be more than enough to repel the attack. Then there was Daenerys and her dragons.

They went around a hill before the city gates came into view. People were being killed near the gates by the Sons of Harpy. At that point, he understood this would be the first battle of this scale he would partake in - Harry cut half the neck off of a Son he had gotten close to on his horse, continuing to kill as many of them as he could as he made his way into the city.

The Dothraki split up as soon as they got into the city, taking up different routes and Alleyways to clear them of their Queens enemies," Travel straight. We have to get to the Temple. Daenerys could be there," Daario told him.

"No. She's taking care of the fleet with her Dragons," Harry retorted, cutting the arm off one of the Harpies.

"How do you know that?" The sellsword frown. Harry shrugged, having no answer to that question himself. Harry split off with his own division of Dothraki, continuing to kill more of the Sons of Harpies as he went on his way. As he continued on, he noticed a group of men fighting off the Harpies - which was strange, because they were neither Dothraki or Unsullied.

They became more frequent as he went down the street. Soon the street opened up, and he came face to face with a stone building with a staircase leading up to it, fire cauldrons etching the sides of the path. There was more fighting around it, and these unknown warriors seemed to be defending the structure itself. Harry didn't know why, but he decided to help - it was still part of the city.

They charged forward, decapitating all the Sons of Harpies in their path. They outnumbered them; Harry was sure he no less than five-thousand Dothraki with him already. This would be easy.

It happened so fast; even he barely registered it. A dagger lodged itself into his horses head - the horses didn't also give out a cry of pain as it fell forward, throwing Harry into the stairs at high speeds. His shoulder was the first part of his body to hit the floor, and he heard a loud 'CRACK', but it did not stop there, his figure slid on the floor fast, his back, along with his head - hit the base of the stairs of the stairs that led up to the structure the warriors were protecting.

He felt excruciating pain. His vision went hazy and his eye prickled with tears. Someone shouted in a loud voice; he couldn't figure who - and he blurry silhouettes surrounding him.

His world went dark.

* * *

 **A/N: We begin diverging more from canon next chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading and all the reviews that encourage me to write.**

 **Please review.**


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